


For his warrior of the west

by mgsmurf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9685625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgsmurf/pseuds/mgsmurf
Summary: Western AU of Jaime/Brienne written for the Valentine's Day ficlet fest at JBO. The usual fare of stock Valentine cards of frill, lace, cupids and dried flowers just did not seem the right gift for his fearless warrior woman of the west.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in Kansas a bit after the US Civil War (thus the war mentioned yet not by Jaime). This is my favorite time in history and thus as accurate as I remember mostly top of my head. The Valentine Day cards mentioned were common to the holiday at the time. The picture is a card by Esther Howland who made such famous, image from wikipedia. I think about the only bit of history that might not be commonly known or explained is mini-balls. Those were the shot used in the rifles commonly used in the US Civil War. It was also so much fun to write a western. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed writing for this time period.

Brienne Tarth was a large fearless woman who braved long dusty miles of empty territory with only her team of trusty work horses and a yellow boy Winchester rifle. Jaime had looked long and hard at the usual fare of Valentine's day, stock cards of frills, lace, cupids and dried flowers. He'd never seen anything but sensible and practical clothing on the woman, usually men's pants still an inch short on her long legs, a man's plain blue work shirt that hid what little curves she had beneath. He'd turned away from the frill of the cards and thought about something else.

Sheriff Lannister'd seen the hint of Brienne's curves just the once, in the flickering flames of a camp fire as he'd cleaned and bandaged a gun shot hole in her shoulder. She'd looked harried then, clothing torn, red rimmed eyes wide with worry. He still remembered well the cries she'd let up as the band of men who'd taken them and her stagecoach attempted to rape her. He might be a man of the law now, but he'd thought whatever honor in him had been bled out in the horror of the hard years of the war, until he'd foolishly found himself fighting overwhelming odds to protect a large woman stagecoach driver he barely knew.

“Sheriff. Good evening.” A slight hint of a smile graced Brienne's thick lips as she approached and dipped her head. Her clothing was clean and pressed even though she'd just driven in on her stagecoach this morning. Her tow blonde hair was parted and slicked into mostly order. Despite the wide brimmed hat she usually wore the sun had sprinkled more freckles on her pale face. She wore her usual army colt pistol slung across her wide hips.

Jaime returned a wider smile. “Miss Tarth, shall we?” He reached out his only hand, the left that remained to him. Brienne took his arm and allowed him to led her like a lady towards the hotel's dinning room, besides the saloon the only place in town that offered a prepared hot meal.

He knew there was too much gray in his sun-lightened hair, too many wrinkles on his tanned face, too many vile deeds done on orders or not for the Confederacy. His right sleeve was pinned up as usually to hide the rough wound at his wrist where years ago the army surgeon had hacked off his ruined hand. His trousers were dark wool, his vest lined with red silk, his shirt only a slightly dingy white. Pinned to his breast was a polished silver star. His two Remington new army pistols hung on his hips, the left worn standard butt backwards and the right faced butt outwards to be drawn by his left. Brienne had scoffed the first time she'd seen his rig, her flat words wondering why a one-handed man needed two guns.

They must look a sight. Brienne stood a good inch taller than him, and Jaime Lannister wasn't a short man by any means. Were it not for his missing hand and guns he might look the part of a proper Southern gentleman, but Brienne Tarth would never look the part of a proper lady, even if she wore a dress large enough to do her justice. They spoke little to each other as the serving girl escorted them to a small table for two with a lit white candle in the middle.

Brienne thanked the girl and smoothly placed the napkin upon her lap, back straight, face emotionless. There was still as much stoic, precise New Englander in her manner than in her clipped accent. A slight smirk showed as he thought about it. Jaime leaned back, draped his shortened arm over the back of his chair and lounged his crossed legs out under the table.

“I'm glad you got back in time for tonight.” Jaime had been planning this for weeks and he would've been disappointed if the stagecoach got delayed as it oft happened.

Brienne tightened her lips. “It's almost a made up holiday, mostly about selling those silly lace cards.” She shook her head.

Jaime shrugged, glad he hadn't gotten her one. “Possibly. But where else were you gonna dine tonight?”

Brienne gave him a long look before finally managing to say, “True.”

The serving girl returned then, daughter to the hotel manager, his elder daughter Jaime thought he remembered. “Sheriff Lannister.” She cleared her throat. “Father did find you a proper bottle.” She held out a bottle for Jaime to get a look himself. The green glass was dusty and filled with a dark red wine. The faded label claimed to be from Virginia. He thought it best not to wonder where the hotel owner had dug it up from.

“Wonderful,” Jaime said instead. “Shall we dine with wine tonight, Miss Tarth?”

Brienne was giving the bottle a wary look, however did nod her head. “Yes. That would be lovely.”

They were both from back East. Brienne from Maine and Jaime from Virginia. Both had come from moneyed families, of a sort. Jaime himself had been raised on one of the larger plantations in Virginia with more slaves than he'd like to admit to most here. He'd been privately tutored, taught riding and shooting from an early age, and sent to a military academy to finish his education. But the South now stood in rambles, and his honor even more so. His father, a turn coat, had gotten into business with northerners, most notably the husband of his dear close cousin. After the war the empty civility of high society rankled when his missing hand still ached, when he still woke in cold sweats from what he had seen and done for his home. He'd escaped to the west, where few knew or cared about his family or his father, where oft times what mattered most was what remained of his skill with a gun and horse.

Brienne came more from an old family than actual money. The only surviving child of her father, he had indulged her by teaching her to fish and hunt and ride. As a young woman she'd dressed as a boy and run away to join the state militia. Luckily for her by '64 there hadn't been much fighting left to do back east and she'd seen little action and no actual battles. She might not have actually believed him that she should be glad to have not seen the true baseness of men in war.

The dinner was nice. The food the usual meat and potato fare, but the wine turned out to be halfway decent. They chatted amicability about town politics, her latest trip, the weather. For a time Jaime could imagine being some where else, some time else.

Only the pie and coffee remained of dinner when Jaime finally drew out the package from his inner vest pocket. This large woman who shamelessly moved so well in a man's world had fascinated him from the moment they had first met. He'd grown to respect her, to trust her, to genuinely enjoy her and her company. Yet, something else now made his hand sweaty, tightened in his chest, something he had only really felt once before and never quite like this.

Brienne titled her head and tightened her lips. “What is this?”

“A gift.” Jaime kept his voice steady even as his heart pounded in his chest.

Brienne narrowed her eyes. Her long fingers roamed over the package. “I did not know we were doing gifts.”

“Well...” Jaime frowned. He hadn't meant exactly to give her a gift, but he'd seen the cards and silly holiday or not he wished to let Brienne know how much her and her friendship had meant to him these last few months. He had no other friends here, in truth he had no other living friends and only strained relations with his own blood. “Open it,” he finally managed to say.

Brienne nodded and did so. She gasped as she pulled out the gloves. They were pale calf skin, soft and well made. Brienne had everything she needed or even wanted. Perhaps he had picked right with something she might want without knowing herself.

“I used to rather like gloves,” he said. “I had a wonderful pair during the war, bleached leather with gold embroidery, they went past my wrists.” They had shown little wear even after years of mud and blood and gunpowder. His missing hand clenched as if it felt again the supple leather. Jaime shrugged. “But, I never buy them now, rather a waste.” He lifted the stub of his right hand and tried not to think of blood spread over that white glove, the flesh torn to shreds by a Union mini-ball.

“They're....” Her hands trailed over the smooth calf skin, the neatly sewn stitching. “I....” Tears threatened to spill from her brilliant blue eyes, the blue of calm sparkling seas, her one truly gorgeous feature. Otherwise her face was plain, her straw-like hair roughly cut. Her large frame held few curves and nothing pretty besides her long legs. He knew enough to know Brienne had never fit into the high society of New England where she had been raised. Had she done so, she would have been married with babes instead of off fighting in the end of the war. Brienne swallowed hard, perhaps pushing down her emotions. He knew she hated others to see the softer side of herself, that kind, big heart she had in that large, strong chest.

“Why don't we go for a walk. Get some air.” He offered his shortened right arm and used his left to take a few coins from his pocket to pay for dinner. While he led Brienne from the dining room, he dipped his head as he caught the serving girl's eyes.

Outside the night had grown chill. Winter wind whipping through his shirt and longjohns. They walked down the main street of town, towards the outskirts. Dusk set ahead of them, red and pink and orange upon the flat expanse of Kansas. The boarding house were the Wells Fargo stage got Brienne a room whenever she came to town was in the other direction. But, he'd have to leave her if he walked her back there. It wouldn't be proper to go in himself. Last thing Jaime wanted was to ruin her reputation by making the town think he was bedding Brienne, there was nothing about his own reputation left to sully.

Brienne finally put on the gloves and flexed her fingers in them. “They're lovely, Jaime.” She pulled to a stop at the last of the houses in town. “No one's ever....” She turned to him and a single tear ran down her freckled cheek.

Jaime reached out and wiped it away before thinking. Brienne shivered at his touch and he withdrew his hand. It wasn't that he didn't know what went on between a man and woman. He'd never been married, but he'd spent most of his life being his cousin Cersei's lover. Nor had he not thought about Brienne as such. What the expanse of her pale freckled skin might look like bare. How it might feel to have her willing beneath him. Was he courting her? He'd only done that once, still almost a child with the daughter of a family friend, until it'd drawn Cersei's jealousy.

“I'm glad you like them,” he finally managed. They stood too close, yet he couldn't make himself step away.

“I am sorry I have not gotten anything for you.” A slight frown graced Brienne's plain feature. No more tears fell as she looked down to the gloves upon her large hands, almost as big as his own. “Although I am certain you have received the usual frillity before.”

Jaime did not quite manage to keep the small sneer off his face. Oh, he knew what people thought, he was a handsome man, one proper and improper women flirted with openly. He'd like to think Brienne knew better, knew he didn't want most woman. Did he want her? The thought suddenly hit him in the growing dark of the open plains beside this woman tall enough he had to look up to her that he did want Brienne, he very much did.

She must have realized she'd made a mistake in her wording and assumptions. Brienne took a step back. “I did not mean to –.”

“No.” Jaime reached out and gripped her wrist to keep her near. She tilted her head, looked at him with those glorious blue eyes, and waited. Jaime sucked at his lower lip,swallowed. “I'm not one to get many gifts of affection.” He need not mention most of this was because Cersei was not one to give such and he had spent much of his life with thoughts of only his sweet cousin.

He cleared his throat, pushed thoughts of his past lover from his mind and looked into the bold eyes of Brienne Tarth, his warrior of the west. “I saw the gloves and thought of you,” he said, “and... I just wanted to let you know... how....” He tightened his lips. Buying her affections was not what he had intended. The many gifts his father had given him throughout his childhood instead of his love and affection echoed in his mind.

Brienne took off the gloves and neatly tucked them into her belt. She turned her eyes back up to him and stepped closer until their chests touched. She swallowed, blinked, a blush rose upon her cheeks. Then one of her hands was on the stubble of his cheek, large enough to cover it from chin to ear, the skin thick with callouses. Jaime tilted his head up as she dipped hers. Their lips met briefly, hers dry and chapped from the western air.

Jaime angled his head and deepened the kiss. When Brienne gasped, he slipped his tongue between her lips into the moist warmth of her mouth. Her hand gripped at the back of his neck. Jaime's stump wrapped around her waist and his hand gripped her hip.

They finally pulled apart, puffing warm breaths upon flushed cheeks. “Thank you,” he finally managed to say.

Brienne cocked her head. “What is this between us Jaime Lannister?”

“Must there be anything between us?” Jaime's hammering heart almost betrayed his cocky voice as it screamed there was everything between them.

Brienne rose an eyebrow, clearly not buying his causal words. She took a step away while trailing her hand down his good arm and clasping his hand in hers. He wanted to ask if she had ever properly been courted as a girl. Could a man of nearly forty even properly court a woman?

“Would you do me the honor of walking me back to my room, sheriff?” A small smile played on Brienne's lips.

Jaime dipped his head and would have doffed his hat had he a spare hand to manage it. “My dear Brienne, it would be my esteemed honor.” He made sure to let the full drawl of Dixie fill his words and Brienne chuckled while shaking her head. As they started to walk Jaime bumped his shoulder against hers, drawing a smile from her.

Their legs were long and the street short and they were to her room too soon. They paused outside the door, a room he had never been within, for good reason. Jaime swallowed. “You make me happy, Brienne.” His voice soft and almost cracking. “Happier than I think I've ever been.” His life had always been one of duty and obligations and dishonor but never been one of happiness.

“I know,” she whispered. “I feel much the same.” Her words were certain but her eyes betrayed her fears and worries.

Jaime very much wanted to kiss them away. It would be so easy to lean into her, kiss her again, but he knew if he started he wouldn't want to stop. Instead, he pushed away and with his hand free properly doffed his wide brimmed hat and gave a gentlemanly bow.

“Darling.” I love you, he thought and kept silent. By god, he did, he loved Brienne, and the thought took away the rest of his words.

Perhaps Brienne noticed the change, knew what he did not speak. “Tomorrow?” her voice near a whisper.

Jaime nodded and croaked out, “Yes.” He turned and left. Outside in the clear night as the stars winked down from the wide sky Jaime wondered if their shared feelings would doom them or just possibly exultant them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting a pic, as really I am not much of a pic person. But, thought it appropriate for this one.


End file.
